I returned with a 1940s writing bureau.
Much more appealing than teabags and carrots, and far too lovely to leave languishing in a charity shop.
It's being delivered on Friday.
So much history in such a small piece of furniture.
The well worn leather on the writing surface, the tiny compartments...the secret drawer.
As a child I was fascinated by my great grandmother's bureau.
So many magic drawers and random treasures...the pitted leather, the inkwell - the stashed mars bars!
And this little bureau brought these memories flooding back.
|Gamsie, my great grandma.|
Do children still write thank you letters at Christmas, or has technology taken over, with those impersonal round-robin emails and e-cards.
I can't remember the last time I had a proper letter drop through my letterbox - or even a postcard.
Bills and junkmail aplenty, but not one, solitary letter.
However, I am just as guilty, having sent just two letters myself in the last few years, one to an older relative in Australia, the other to a not-so-old friend in Israel who has yet to embrace the internet.
I will be storing fabric in my bureau, alongside dusty old diaries, cards and virtual good intentions to rediscover the lost art of letter writing.
Although maybe not with a fountain pen - being a leftie I could effortlessly smudge the ink across the page and up my arm, but rollerballs...I can do rollerballs!
|Love my old letters!|